A Break in the Routine
by Darkly Dreaming
Summary: Prompt: "I came to the gym to work out but holy god I can't stop watching you do one armed push ups that's so hot" AU Apparently tonight was a night for a break in her routine.


A/N: I made a conscious decision to make Emma admire Killian, rather than the other way around, and I'll tell you why. Killian admiring Emma is _so canon_ it's just barely worth writing in a oneshot AU. And Killian's hot. And he has one hand, so it makes sense. And he's hot.

Prompt: "I came to the gym to work out but holy god I can't stop watching you do one armed push ups that's so hot" AU

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Emma Swan had gone to the same gym on the same day at the same time every week since she'd moved to Boston two years ago - her longest stay anywhere since Tallahassee - and she was very set in her routine; stretch, fifty crunches, fifty pushups, fifty pullups, bike to warm down. Ocassionally she'd take advantage of the weights, but only if there was someone around to spot her. There was rarely anyone to spot her, as she deliberately came late at night to avoid the crowd.

Apparently tonight was a night for a break in her routine.

A new member entered the gym as she was mounting the bike. He was standing at a locker unloading his duffel bag. Messy dark hair was mussed even more when he removed his shirt. Dark hair over a tanned and toned chest had her sweating just a tiny bit more than before he showed up. He moved toward her and she quickly averted her eyes. She didn't want to be caught staring.

On his way over to the pullup bar a glint caught her eye and then she really was staring. Instead of a left hand he had a black leather brace on his forearm with a hook attachment - and not one of those modern utility hooks like some folks had. This was an honest-to-god, pointed, Captain Hook-style hook. She continued to steal surreptitious glances through her eyelashes as she finished warming down.

Emma was surprised when he pulled himself up one-handed, chin above the bar, and set up to help with the rest. Every time he'd go up he'd stretch his legs out in front of him at a perfect ninety-degree angle. A vision of Dusin Hoffman's Hook swam in her mind briefly, before the stranger grunted, unhooked, and lowered himself with the ease of practice. _Good form, Captain._

She slowed her legs, letting her heart follow suit, and took a long pull off her water bottle. The Captain, as she called him in her head, had moved to crunches. Emma was finished with her routine, but felt the urge to stay pulling at her, so she got off the bike and repeated her stretches, which she usually liked to do at home before bed to give her muscles time to rest a little.

Emma finished her stretches just in time for the Captain to switch to pushups. Seemed like so far they had a pretty similar routine. In a stupid effort to keep staring at him Emma went to the her locker and put on her grappling gloves. The sandbag gave a good view of him without it looking like she was actually looking at him.

The Captain had removed his hook and Emma felt a slight twinge of something she wasn't going to name at the loss. As she started up with the sandbag he did twenty regular pushups, then switched to just his right hand. It was only slightly hotter than the impressive pullups, because his form was just as rigid as it was when he used both arms. A few minutes and a couple of spin-kicks later he switched arms and she was duly impressed once more. The brace didn't look like it would hold much traction on its own, but he seemed to know how to handle it and continued on as if nothing were missing. _Definitely good form_.

She grabbed her water bottle and headed back to her locker. He stood up as she passed him and she quirked an appreciative eyebrow at him, but didn't say anything. Normally she'd shower before leaving but she didn't want to tempt herself by staying any longer, and so left without a word.

This became her routine for the next four weeks; stretch, fifty crunches, fifty pushups, fifty pullups, bike to warm down. Then he'd come through the door and start _his_ routine, same as hers, while she punched out her frustration. She never stayed long enough to find out if he used the bike.

Apparently tonight was a night for a break in their routine.

It seemed he was watching her as much as she was watching him. As she moved to the sandbag he finished his crunches and followed her over.

"Killian," he said. _Was that an accent?_

"Huh?" she replied gracelessly. _Ugh._

"My name, lass," he explained. "It's Killian." _Fantastic. He's British. Damn that's hot. And his eyes are so blue, what the hell?_

"Emma," she supplied, blinking stupidly. "Can I help you?"

"Perhaps." He was being purposely vague. "For the past four weeks I've seen you take your frustrations out on this poor sandbag. I just thought perhaps you'd like a sparring partner this time?"

His voice was sinful and that accent was doing things to her. Sure she'd like a sparring partner, but not of the kickboxing variety, if you caught her drift.

They were alone in the small gym tonight and he still had his hook attached. However, she got the impression that if she refused him he'd never bother her again. She didn't want that.

"I don't see why not," she shrugged. "Don't know what you're gonna do with that, though." She gestured to the hook and he caught himself, as though he'd forgotten about it. Emma supposed that was easy enough to do if you were used to it, which he seemed to be.

"Right. Gimme a mo'." He went to his locker and put a fingerless glove over his right hand, thinner than her MMA style grapplers, and removed his hook. On his way back he toed off his slip-on gym shoes and spread his legs in a loose fighting stance. "Ready when you are, Emma." He smirked and his eyes glimmered with mischief. It did things to her insides. This probably wasn't a good idea.

Emma got in position and went to sweep him under, but he was ready for her. He hopped over her leg and ducked under her follow-up punch, landing a light blow to her stomach. Killian then tried to take her out behind the knee, but she saw it coming and turned to brace herself, making him hit her thigh as she crouched. She went for a face-blow but he blocked her with his brace. This time she'd distracted him well enough with the high-hit that he forgot to watch her feet, expecting a follow-up to the face. She swept him right off his feet and instantly she had him pinned.

"I do believe I've won, Captain." The nickname slipped out before she had a chance to even think about it and she instantly regretted it. She'd have to explain herself and it would be embarrassing and she'd have to find another twenty-four-hour gym and she'd never see him again.

Contrary to anything she expected he simply quirked an eyebrow at her and smirked. "I think that's a matter of perspective, love." His eyes flicked down to where she was straddling him and back up to her eyes. Emma didn't even blush. Her adrenaline was pumping and she didn't have a care in the world.

"Killian." Her eyes bore into his and she almost got lost in them. "I'm starving, are you starving?" She picked herself up and offered him a hand. He took it and grinned.

"Famished."


End file.
